


The Arrangement

by Dulcinea



Category: Metallica
Genre: Humor, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 15:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulcinea/pseuds/Dulcinea
Summary: James has urges he needs satisfied. Lars knows a guy. Set in Load era, 1997.





	The Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift for ScrewTheDaisies, as part of 2012's A Very Kinky Rockfic Ficmas Fest. The prompt was 'James Hetfield,rent boy (Metallica): Secretive rent boy sex :D'
> 
> Old fic from the archive.

Lars looked like the perfect pimp-superstar, his black leather outfit glistening from head-to-toe under the fluorescent light, black Raybands covering his eyes. Leaning against the concrete wall, cross-armed and cross-ankled, he chewed his gum loud and slow, the sharp snaps sending echoes down the halls, echoes that could alert the crew, the other bands and who knows whom else what they were doing—what James was  _asking_  Lars to do, for him.  
  
James grunted. “Well? Will you?”  
  
Another gum snap. Then: “What kind?”  
  
“Uh?”  
  
“Short, tall, fat, skinny, piercings, no piercings, what?”  
  
His cheeks burned. “I don’t care.”  
  
Lars grinned. “You sure ‘bout that?” Gum snap.  
  
“Jesus.” He looked over his shoulder, down one hall, then the other. Leaning in, he hissed, “Something I’d like, okay?”  
  
“Specifics would help.”  
  
“You gonna do this or do I go ask Kirk?”  
  
Lars shrugged. “If you like goth twinks.”  
  
The sad part was, he probably wouldn’t mind. When he saw Kirk make out with some barely legal piece of goth boy at some after party in Paris—who dragged Kirk somewhere private and from what he heard, slurping and choked noises that made his dick hard—it gave him the idea to do this. To try it, at least once. Just hopefully not with someone with too much eyeliner and lipstick and piercings. But, if it was a willing mouth…  
  
He fished out the wad of hundreds in his pocket. “Just do it.” One step in closed the gap between them. Standing over Lars, he shoved the cash into Lars’s coat jacket and said, “I trust you.”  
  
Lars chuckled, unfurling his arms. “You pay me later.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Yeah.” He grabbed and pushed James’s arm. “Once I get a rate.”  
  
“Oh.” He slipped his hand out and stepped away, pocketing the money again. “Cool. Okay.”  
  
Still chuckling, Lars pushed away from the wall. He patted James’s arm, circling around him. “See you out there.”  
  
“Yeah.” James circled in place, following Lars. “Uh, will you—”  
  
“Later, after the gig.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“I’ll come to you.”  
  
“Okay, great.”  
  
“See you.” The gum smacks returned as Lars waved over his shoulder, his heels clicking on concrete. And as James watched him go, he wondered if he was better off asking Kirk in the first place.  
  
**  
  
Right after they left the stage, Lars pulled him to the side for an emergency post-show meeting. If there was one benefit to their long friendship—and lately, all James saw were disadvantages—it was how everyone scattered and left them be when Lars said they had to be alone.  
  
“Two fifty,” Lars said.  
  
“That much?”  
  
“You were expecting less?”  
  
“More like the opposite.”  
  
“It’s his base rate for half an hour.”  
  
“ _Half?_ ”  
  
“You wanted more?”  
  
“Well…”  
  
“It’s your first time, James. Don’t be greedy.” Lars smirked. “Besides, I hear he’s pretty good. Thirty minutes will be just enough.”  
  
James frowned. “Heard from who?”  
  
“Reliable sources you don’t need to ever know.” He came up to James, patting his arm. “You better get going. He’ll be in your room in forty minutes.”  
  
“ _What?_ ” He felt de ja vu circling in place, following Lars’s path out the door. “How’d you get one that quick?”  
  
His answer back was a laugh.  
  
He didn’t get a chance to pester Lars further. Once outside the room, technicians and their tour manager swarmed Lars, and Jason crowded his personal space, asking if he wanted to see a hockey game with him, or go out for a few beers. With a grunted “not now,” he brushed Jason off, walked to his tour case, gathered his shit together and headed out.  
  
**  
  
Forty minutes turned into over an hour. He ordered some porn on the TV to keep him in the mood, but he lost his hard on and gave up on the guy coming at all when hour two arrived.  
  
“Reliable sources, my ass.” He slipped into the sheets naked, all the lights off and curtains thumbtacked to the wall. “Thank God I didn’t pay shit.” He reached for the pillow and stuffed over his head.   
  
A few minutes later, his eyes shot open at the sound of a door unlocking.  
  
_No way._  
  
He rolled over. Light spilled into the room. A key jingled.  
  
The pillow ended up on the floor as he sat up against the headboard.  
  
A silhouette of a figure. Nice hips.  
  
The door slammed shut behind him.  
  
Something fell to the ground, followed by the sound of unzipping. Feet shuffled on the carpet, coming closer.  
  
Beside him, the bed dipped. Bare skin brushed his side.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
His dick rose as the sheets pulled away and off.  
  
Cool air hit his legs. More bare skin touched his hips. Bare hips, maybe. Bare thighs?  
  
A hand rested on his belly. Smooth. Warm.  
  
He cleared his throat. “Ah—”  
  
Fingers pressed against his lips. “Shh.” They skipped down, over his chin, across his jawline.  
  
“Uh—”  
  
“Shh.” Those fingers raked through his hair, behind his ear—he let loose a soft moan—and over his lips, he felt warm breath, and heard even louder, “Shhhh.”  
  
The hand on his belly slipped down too. Down to his crotch.  
  
Lips covered his, eating up his gasp when that hand touched him.  
  
His body slumped down into the pillows, hips pushing up into the long strokes on his dick. His hands came up to take this—guy? man?  _rent boy?_ —onto his lap. But the hand in his hair swiped at one of his arms.  
  
The kiss broke. The hand on his dick left. He heard another “shh” and two strong hands pinned his wrists down to either side of his head. They pressed down, bruising the skin. Legs swung over his waist— _oh fuck_ —and his cock slid against another. Rubbed together. Moved together. His hips ground up—the boy gasped—and hips ground back, right into his.  
  
Another kiss, rougher than the last, ate up his moan. Their dicks rubbed, hips grinding, James flexed his arms, and the hands squeezed his wrists tighter.  _Don’t you move_ , they said, and James moaned into the kiss, relaxing his body in one long sigh through his nose.  
  
When the kiss petered out, James let out a soft “fuck.”  
  
Lips kissed his cheek. Kissed the side of his jaw. Kissed down the curve of his neck, to his sternum.  
  
His arms stayed on the bed as the hands slid away his wrists, and the body above him stopped grinding and slid down too. All the way down, between his legs.  
  
Hot breath over his cock. Kisses to his pelvic bone. To his left thigh. Right thigh.  
  
“Ah fuck.” James lifted his shaky legs up and spread them wider, planting his feet onto the mattress. “Fuck yeah… yeah…”  
  
Hands gripped his hips with the same strength they had on his wrists.  
  
“Oh fuck.” He swallowed hard, twisting his fingers into the bed sheets.  
  
A lick to the head forced his hips up into the air.  
  
Another lick. Another hip thrust. And no mouth waiting.  
  
“Jesus  _fuck_.” He planted his head to the right. Sweat trickled into his mouth. “Fucking—”  
  
A longer lick, up the shaft.  
  
“Shit!” He hissed through his teeth and arched up the bed.  
  
Kisses again to his pelvic bone. To his thighs. Not getting anywhere close to his dick again.  
  
A whimper bled out when he felt a kiss to his balls, followed by a lick. And another.  
  
_Please._  He thrusted his hips up again.  _Please…_  
  
That mouth went back to his thighs. Kisses, more kisses—  
  
Teeth sunk into the skin.  
  
“Oooh God.” His legs spread more, thighs trembling as the teeth dug deeper, and deeper. He gasped, moaned, yanked at the sheets—one popped off the corner—and more sweat fell into his mouth from his upper lip. He licked it away, tasted himself, felt his body burn and his thighs hurt, pulsing pain up his belly, right to his hard dick, and against his tight throat, James let loose a soft, needy, “ _Please_.”  
  
The teeth let go, smoothing the bite over with a messy lick, then a long, wet kiss.  
  
Through his hard breathing, James said louder, “Please.” Licked his lips and said again, “Please… please…”  
  
He moaned loud when that mouth finally slid over his cock. His back arched off the bed again—the hands on his hips held them down—and out came a stream of moans he couldn’t hold back, moans and gasps and “fuck, more, please,  _fuck_ ” as that mouth sucked him down, swallowed, moved, licked, fast, slow, fast, alternating speeds, alternating rhythms that he couldn’t follow, leaving him in a blur of pleasure that rose too fast and ended too quick with a yelp and his body doing convulses on the bed. But the hands kept him steady. Those hands held control of his hips, and the boy didn’t let go until he was done, and all James could do was whimper “stop, no more, stop” flopping back onto the bed in a heap once that mouth finally slid off and away.   
  
The boy’s head rested on top of his tummy. He felt and heard his heavy breathing, labored breathing that matched his own.  
  
One of James’s shaky hands unfurled from the sheets and rested on top of his head. He gave him gentle pets, fingers skipping over his sweaty hair.  
  
James stared up towards the dark ceiling, listening to his heart pounding too loud in his ears, until the thump-thumps petered off and his breathing started to even out.  
  
Over his stomach, he felt lips kiss his bellybutton. The head lifted up, and James pulled his hand away, resting it over his sternum.  
  
The bed squeaked and groaned. James felt skin rub against his legs, then his feet. The extra body weight left from somewhere at the end of the mattress, and he heard feet shuffle away, followed by clothes rustling, pants zipping up again.  
  
James’s eyelids drooped closed, listening to the boy move about in the room. Part of him felt a little awkward— _shouldn’t I say, well, thanks or something? Maybe pay him now?_  But he reached for the sheets, pulling them up and over his waist, and turned to his side.  _I’ll let Lars deal with it later._  
  
He tucked his pillow under his head, a hand slipping under the fabric. He sighed through his nose, a sated smile curling up on his lips.  
  
His eyes snapped open again when soft lips kissed his cheek.  
  
They stayed open as he heard the boy leave the room and open the door, catching another quick glimpse of that body again, the hips, a glance of his hands, slender shoulders—and the door shut, leaving him back in total darkness once again.  
  
It took him some more time before he could finally sleep.  
  
**  
  
The morning after, in the privacy of Lars’s room, with Lars wearing all leather again and snapping that stupid gum, James delivered the payment needed. “Thanks.”  
  
Lars grinned from ear-to-ear. “Worth it, uh?”  
  
James’s cheeks burned. He nodded yes.  
  
“Told you. Best cocksucker I know, that’s for damn sure.”  
  
His dick twitched in his pants. James shifted in place, looking down and away. “Uh, yeah.”  
  
“Want another one?”  
  
His head snapped up. “What?”  
  
“Another boy?”  
  
“Um.” He blinked. “Uh—”  
  
“Alright, I’ll let you think about it. Hey, we got a meeting with the production guys in a bit, something about no pyro allowed tonight or some shit, I don’t know.” Lars folded the bills in one hand, waving James over to the door with the other. “Go get some breakfast. I’ll see you later.”  
  
“Right.” He turned towards the door, shaking his head. “Right. Breakfast…”   
  
Outside the room, James shook his head, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans.  _Another boy? How the fuck does Lars find them?_  He snorted, walking down the hall.  _Then again, it_ is _Lars._  
  
At the elevator, he punched in the ‘L’ button for the lobby, mulling over Lars’s proposition. Another boy. Another quick fix and good night’s rest, with none of that messy feeling shit in between. Just sex.  
  
_Well._  The elevator rung. Its doors slid open, and James stepped inside.  _Only if he’s as good as the last one…_  
  
**  
  
Lars watched James leave, chuckling in between his loud gum snaps. Once the door shut, he turned and walked to his bed, swiping his cell phone off the pillowcase and punched in Kirk’s number.  
  
Two rings later: “Lars?”  
  
“Yeah it’s me.”  
  
“Oh my God you survived. Okay. Fuck. What happened? What’d he do?”  
  
“Let’s just say…” Gum snap.  
  
“What, what?!”  
  
Lars chuckled, surveying the folded bills in his hand—and slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans. “ _Someone_  earned some extra cash last night.”


End file.
